The Poisonous Hunter (DK Fic)
by KenCat12
Summary: Meet Kendsley Willard, or as he prefers, Choken. A wanna-be assassin that's smug, wicked and demented. Like others, he has his own unique power. Choken can breath a poisonous gas that can be very lethal if one doesn't evade the power. He also uses his favorite knife and a set of syringes, full of a liquefied version of the gas. Soon, Choken revives a bounty. On two orphans.
1. Chapter 1

WARNING: The following will have spoilers to people who have NOT read the comic. I suggest a read before this.)

Yet again, the news broadcast was the same. More and more "updates" on the "Killer Orphan duo". Them and the daughters of some rich politician. They had been on the hunt for these people for a few days now. Every news channel and nobody could even look at their own scroll without being spammed by the same regurgitated trash that the reporters spewed. Most people ran freely looking for the suspects. All ages too. Children, teens, men and women. Some even teamed up, and looked in idiotic places.

"IF they were still around...they would hide in a trash can. Well...not if they're smart that is." Choken thought. He rolled his eyes and continued to watch the television.

He sat in a chair against the wall of his small apartment. Many would say it wasn't much, and agreeably, it wasn't. But he liked it since it was small and quiet, nobody could bug him and he could be alone in his thoughts. Until he was to walk out and be among others. Which didn't bother him until some would try to see if he was interested in joining their search party. Each would receive an eye roll and an insult. His preferred work was sometimes good and other times bad. Depending on his job.

His occupation was an assassin, but to keep safe, he only would act if paid. Handsomely. He wanted to go after the little orphan boys and get the girls back to their father. Which seems nice, but it was so the father and the chick he was with would shut up. "Can't watch a thing with out seeing her bawl and blubber..." he thought as the couple appeared once again. "Is ever political face so annoying? We get it woman... you 'miss' your boyfriends kids. Pfft...yea. Faker. All you are. Can see right through your act." he mumbled to himself, then looked out the window at the crowd searching everywhere for the kids. He shook his head and continued to think. "I'm only 18. I shouldn't really view the suspects as kids really. Eh. oh well...And that chick isn't political, she some singing sensation. Tinsel..."

Choken wore his usual attire. Black jeans, a white and black long sleeve stripped shirt and a matching scarf. His head buried in the mask as usual, from his nose and up could be seen. His mouth was covered to conceal his power. A power that came in use for his occupation. He'd known others had powers today and in the past, ability that seemed to help the user and sometimes fit their personalities. His power seemed to be just as unique as others.

Though he kept it hidden, his ability was why he wore his mask. He had the ability to breath a toxic gas that could either kill or stun his enemies. The power was easy to control and he could speak with out the fumes escaping, unless he wanted it to. This came in hand to interrogate and scare anyone in his way.

Deciding that enough was enough of media blabbering, he stood up and turned the T.V off, then headed for the door. With a turn of the handle, he pulled it open to find something tapped to the opposite side. Raising a brow, he retrieved the note and examined it. It looked to have been crumbled up a one point, but the hand writing was decent.

"Dear Mr. Willard

I'm interested in your services after hearing about your work in the political business. Don't think you're that elusive, word got passed around in hushed tones, and your name came up multiple times. So here's our proposition. You must know of the wanted teens by now. We want the viscounts daughters brought home safely, with out any trouble. You'll get five thousand lucre' if both are brought home. Again, alive and well.

As for the two orphans? Authorities would be more than happy to have them in custody. But, if you do feel the urge to take them out. A source will pay you. Handsomely. Do not waste our time. Have fun. Signed, An interested customer"

Choken cracked a grin under his face mask. "Perfect. I get to have a bit of fun" he thought, shoving the note into his pocket as he returned to his apartment, giddy with the amount of lucre' he'd be receiving. "Oh, ho! The shit I could buy...If this goes over well...they can share my name in hushed tones again! HA! I can up my prices!" he thought, beginning to rummage through his small space, looking for supplies he'd need.

He sat in his bedroom, kneeling before a crate at the foot of his bed. The crate was light brown with two black metal stripes over the top. He flipped the latches open and lifted the lid, ignoring the elongated creak as it fully opened. Inside was articles of clothes, all varying in type. He placed a finger under a small tab on the edge in the middle and pulled the tray of clothing up, revealing his tools. The tray and interior of the large chest were a leaf pattern that years ago was bright with color, but now it was stained and some of the material lining was sliced or missing, due to years of use.

Inside the lower compartment was a very well organized arsenal. The three sides held one type of vials,all in a form of pouch and all full of a green liquid substance. The vial was a small jar with a black lid and a small opening for needles to enter. The bottom had t item threes. A knife in it's sheath, a small case and a belt, with five small slots for something near the size of bullets.

He took the belt first and began to weave the black woven item through the belt loops of his pants. Before latching it, he slipped the knife sheath on his left side and moved the small holster to the right. "Knife, check...needles?" he said softly, picking the case up, he unzipped the material case and chuckled. "Hello my babies!" he snickered, and then, taking five small jars, he filled the five syringes. The needles were slender but he needed them this way. Easier to conceal up his sleeve for a quick jab at an opponent.

Admiring the last needle he tilted his head and playfully flicked the needle, then placed the cap on it and put it alongside it's clones on his belt. He set the tray back down, and then the lid before standing. Before covering his weapons, he glanced at them one last time.

The sight filled him with a twisted sense of delight. He soon stepped out into the hall and locked the door. He buried his hands into his pockets and began to walk with a sinister hunch, chuckling softly, his voice barley audible. "Hehe...let the games begin"  



	2. Chapter 1-2: The Orphanage

Choken continued his pace through town, his eyes shifting cautiously from person to person. Some met his glances and stayed silent until he passed. His pace was close to a fast walk, as if something was following him and he feared drawing attention to himself, so he restrained himself from running.  
As he continued his journey, slowly losing his smug grin as he drew closer to the few markets. He stopped and ran his fingers through his hair and grunted, a thought now daunting on him. "I have been getting to annoyed by the news...shit...what do they even look like?" he thought, glancing about his surroundings. Disgruntled, he began to walk once more, now more causally.  
As he continued to walk, an obvious idea crossed his mind. Once again groaning at his own ignorance, he rubbed the back of his head and began to mentally try to map out the paths. "Which way to the orphanage. which way, which way..." He began to walk down the desired direction after a moment of debating, hoping his choice was correct.  
Soon, the boat came into view. Ken's smile returned as he took in the near apocalyptic sight. It looked void of life, which might have been preferable. Nobody to stand in his way while he tried to get some form of information. Anything would work. Maybe he'd luck out and find someone foolish enough to release information on the four. Thoughts continued to rush as he trekked along the beach, each step making an indention of his foot. The sand was fairly soft and a bit gritty, which would be a nice feeling, but he was preoccupied with work to enjoy the feeling.  
Once on the deck, he boat seemed even worse close up than at distance. Each step let an occasional board moan, almost like one of sheer agony. The smell of bander cut through the usual smell of the salty water, only adding to the scene along side the cawing of the birds that liked to stay by the sea. Stopping to once again scan his surroundings, he looked out to the horizon. Watching as the lowering sun peaked over the water, making each individual wave glisten like jewels. His ears perked at the sound of a voice calling out.  
"Uh...need some help?" Ken glanced over to the speaker and felt the sides of his mouth curl as he set his sights on a skinny goat that approached, but seemed to keep his distance. "Yes, actually. I was looking for two kids." he answered, turning to face the orphan, who probably wasn't much younger than Ken. The boy raised a brow and motioned for him to follow. "Yea, the owner of the place ain't here. So I am in charge until he gets back." he announced, proud of his self-appointed authority.  
"So what's your name?" Ken asked, trying to sound gullible. The goat sneered as he lead the stranger up the stairs. "Randy" he answered, as the pair reached a large, make shift tent. he lifted the door flap and cleared his throat. "Take your pick. And...you know. The payment goes to me. Of course." Randy added, feeling proud of his trick.  
Ken glanced around the room, looking each one of the orphans over. Two short twins exchanged some what hopeful glances as he strolled past them, his arms folded behind him. Looking each one over, he stopped and snickered. "Oh my...I forget their names. My boss thought they were the cutest things ever..." Ken sounded, slightly peering over his shoulder to the boys in the room.  
"Who? Sure they're around here somewhere!" Randy inquired, using his best salesmen attitude. "I believe their names where Mace and Whip?" Ken replied, continuing his ditsy act. The orphans exchanged bewildered and confused glances. "Them? Why would you want two killers? Or your boss?" Randy asked. Ken turned around fully and chuckled. "My boss wants them." he said lowly.  
Randy blinked, struck by the customers odd request. "The twins are well rounded, nice. Why not them?" he offered, a sense of fear starting to grow. Why did he want the killers? What was his deal? And more importantly...how much could he scam this idiot for?

Like a bolt of lightning, Ken bolted to Randy and seized the front of his shirt and lifted him off the ground and slammed him against the frame of the closest bunk bed. He may have been skinny, but he did have a good grasp. "That's not what I fucking asked. Now is it?" Ken taunted. He grabbed his knife and flipped it in the air and caught it, the blade running down his wrist and a portion of his fore-arm. He twirled it to the proper way and held the blade to Randy's throat. The already silent room was swept by an eerie feeling of terror. "Tell me where they are, or I'll go home with a set of goat horns." Ken warned lowly.

Randy shuttered and looked to the others, who were as equally frightened. "I-I don't have a clue! B-but if you let me go...I-I can help you!" he pleaded, looking in Ken's eye, trying to make the attacker feel guilty. Ken raised a brow. "So, again. WHERE ARE THEY?!" Ken growled through his locked teeth. He pointed the knife outward and narrowed his sights down to the tip, which was still inches from Randy's throat.  
"T-they were around the Anduruna mountain!" Randy finally blurted out. Ken let him down to his feet and re-holstered his knife, then held his arm out in a "I told you so" manner. "See? Was that so hard?" he asked calmly. Randy held back a nervous sniffle and nodded nervously, dusting his shirt off. "Just get out of here freak show." Randy dismissed, avoiding eye contact. Ken chuckled and saluted like a boy scout as he began to make his leave, then he stopped, waving a finger and shaking his head. "Nah- ah ah...Just a minute." Ken added.  
Randy didn't have the chance to ask what he may have forgotten, as Ken suddenly grabbed his shirt once again and tugged him downward, toward the ground. Randy was stopped by the psychos knee that burst his nose like a tomato. A crimson liquid exploded from the scammers nose as he fell backwards to the ground. He covered his nose and squirmed backward, panting nervously and beginning to tremble even more in fear.  
"Next time? Give me the fuckin answer I want!" Ken snapped, before turning around and fleeing the scene. Leaving the boys in the tent still in confusion and terror.


	3. Chapter 1-3 Class Begins

Walking the streets once again, Ken stretched and yawned. The information the orphan gave him was close to none, which most would get annoyed about and ignore the information. Ken viewed it as a small step in the right direction, any shred of information would be preferable. He somewhat wondered how he knew, and slightly wondered if that little punk, scammer had given him the wrong directions. "No. Little shit knows better." he assured himself.  
Soon his stroll was halted, his eyes widening in shock. He blinked and slapped his forehead with his hand and held it there while he shook his head. "I have no CLUE what they look like! The media never shut up and I got annoyed before there were any descriptions. SPIRITS!" he grumbled, dragging his hand down his face and over his mask. He glanced around, making sure nobody was watching his sudden face palm. Nobody noticed. He stood up straight and looked for anywhere to go and look for more tips. Upon looking around, he noticed what may be useful. A small bar where few people entered. His curiosity, and boredom would be cured by going inside.

The sound of both large scrolls on separate walls blared along side the music. Multiple patrons talked, drank or played either darts or pool. The smell of alcohol lingered from mugs and bottles. One scroll played some game that several patrons were far to involved in, screaming and cursing at the players that would never hear their angered threats of physical abuse. Why yell at the scroll? Not like it could do anything about the stupid ass sport.  
The other scroll played the latest news bulletin played, once again reading word about the Orphans, the viscounts kids and some other guy in their group. Hurrying closer to the scroll on the wall, Ken stopped beside a canine, near his own age. Ken intensively watched, trying to study the location, getting a slight idea of where they were now. "...Were last seen in these caverns, after the orphans and the new unknown suspect had arrived on a boat. The suspected killers are still considered armed and dan-" the scroll flipped to the same sports channel from the other scroll.  
"Change it back, Mutt!" Ken yelled, looking to the bartender who blinked in surprise, being unable to speak due to the sudden shout. The bartender pointed over to the canine who smirked, shaking the remote smugly. "My name is Beta, kitty" the cyan canine asked. "Turn it back on...and I won't cut your throat open." Ken warned. Smirking the canine shook his head, then began his childish game by simply saying "Make me".  
Lurching forward slightly, Ken seized the canines shirt and flung him from the bar stool and to the floor. Beta sprung to his feet and readied for battle, bringing up both fists and covering his face, watching Ken move from one foot to the other. Beta struck first, sending a punch into his left shoulder; the force staggered Ken who retaliated by sending an elbow flying, and missing from the poor timing. Trying to catch his balance, Ken barley noticed Beta's knee as it made contact with his stomach, knocking the wind out of him.  
Beta was far more surprising in battle than Ken had thought. He was fast and could pack a punch. Utilizing the best of his small window of time to fight back, Ken locked an arm around Betas neck and sent a fast jab at his side. Once again, Beta landed another hit, this time slamming the back of a hand into Kens mask, though it shielded the blow, the shock from the blow made his skull rattle, causing him to let go once again.  
Noticing others were watching, Ken lets his halo light up, showing off it's electric green light. Beta noticed it and smiled fiendishly. "DreamKeeper too?" he asked, stating the obvious as his own blue halo lit up. Before the fight could take a turn for the worse, the bartender cleared her throat. "Don't even think about it. I'll have both your sorry asses thrown out." she warned coldly. Needing to get more information, Ken let his halo fade away, Beta did the same, returning to his bar stool and his drink. Ken shook his head and looked for somewhere far enough away from the punk, but where he could listen for a news cast. His search fell upon a lonely woman at a table, who waved him over.  
Approaching the mysterious woman, Ken was greeted by the crack of the small shot glass being slammed to the table. The woman's weasel/badger features were now more noticeable. As he sat down, she poured another glass of fermentae, he could notice her fur color was more weasel, but the dark brown stripes on her eyes matched a badgers. She wore black, tight pants with red stripes on the side, a purple vest that hid a white T-shirt underneath. Her hair was straight and a light grey. Despite her hair, she was possibly in her late twenties or early thirties.  
She looked him over, then grabbed the bottle beside her and poured herself another drink, slamming it she finally gave him eye contact. Her purple eyes seemed to cut right into his soul. "Your fighting tactics are very flawed. You fight like a child." she insulted. Ken curled his mouth up in annoyance. "Seriously? I have better shit to do then get insulted. I..." he began to object, trailing off when she put her hand up, silencing him. "You got mad about the orphans. Why" she pointed out. Ken rolling his eyes and, placing is elbow on the table, held his head up on a fist and then spoke, "I'm a bounty hunter and I've been hired to kill the boys and get the viscounts brats back to him...why do you ask?"  
The woman folded her hands before her and cleared her throat "My name is Sedna Carter. Expert in bounty hunting. You need to learn how to fight. You seem to have potential, but attacking like a loose canon will get you killed. I'll be willing to help you by training you. You will pay me after all four are taken care of. The profit will be split 75/25." she stated, dully and then offered her hand. Ken blinked, shocked by her proposition. He winced then shook his head. "W-what the fuck? NO! I'll get the raw end!" he objected. Sedna blinked and shoved her hand outward again.  
"You can take a bad deal once and be a feared bounty hunter, or leave this bar now and get yourself killed. Your call." she pointed out. Ken glared at her hand, then at her cold expression. His cheeky grin grew back under his mask as he took her hand in his and shook firmly. "You drive a hard bargain. Fine, fine. deal." he agreed, letting go. With a curious gleam in his eyes, he chuckled.  
"Where do we begin?"


End file.
